Eureka!
by KaterineKasdorf
Summary: The disappearance of English professor Thomas Foresman shakes Indigo, Illinois to its core. They'd be even more shocked if they knew the truth. What if you could send people into a world that doesn't exist? He did...
1. One

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The Indigo Daily

Professor Presumed Dead

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It's now official. Professor Thomas Foresman, English Prof at Indigo Community college is missing. His disappearance was first noted last week when he did not show up for work. It was his first absent day in his ten-year-long career as a professor. Students were alarmed and repeatedly called his home. It was supposed that he may have been called away on a family emergency, but when three days went by without word from him, friends were highly concerned. 

Eloise Jackson, longtime neighbor and friend of Foresman says, " Tom's a real thoughtful feller. Don't think he's ever missed a day of work. If he'd a gone away on purpose, he woulda called to let somebody know." When asked what she thought may have happened to him Jackson answered, "I sure couldn't tell. I hope he comes home all right though. I'd hate to lose a good pal like Tom."

Dr. Stewart Townsen, president of the college said of Foresman, "Professor Thomas Foresman will always be remembered fondly by the town of Indigo, Illinois, but he holds special place in the hearts of the students, faculty, and alumni of Indigo Community." Here he paused to wipe at a tear, "I believe in the brave policemen of our fair city. If the professor can be found, they shall do it. It is for us, the living, rather to go on and reach the heights which Professor Foresman would have wished us to reach." Townsen will be running for mayor in the upcoming election. 

The police have checked all the places the professor was known to visit, and are sending out bulletins to the cities of his family and friends on the chance that he may have been waylaid while trying to visit them. "On the bright side," says Police Chief Haddigan Barbor, "No John Does have been pulled up from the river in the past week." 

Foresman is not known to have had any debts to characters of a shady nature, and he never carried around anything of value. Police doubt that he would have been robbed or kidnapped. 

Jackson: "It's a real mystery. Poor Professor!"


	2. Two

Haddigan Barbor rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. Indigo, Illinois hadn't had this much excitement since the time Jake Green's cow had eaten a bunch of rusty nails and the vet had had to do surgery to remove them. Being the Chief of Police in a small town had its bonuses. His buddies at the police academy had thought him crazy when he decided to take a job in Indigo. "You'll rot in that little town, man!" they told him. But when they were being shot at by drug dealers in Chicago, he was eating fresh apple pie and writing tickets to j-walkers. This was the first time that Indigo could boast of a real crime. Sure, time to time kids would break a few windows or spray paint a wall, but for the most part nothing bad happened in Indigo. Now this professor had to up and disappear. 

His door opened suddenly and Deputy Marshall Evers strode into the office tossing a package onto Haddigan's desk. "What's this?" The sheriff asked as he opened the manila envelope.

"Stuff we picked up at the old man's place. Journal, a few receipts – there's nothing much there." Evers casually poured himself a cup of steaming coffee and drank it black.

The chief pulled a spiral notebook from the envelope and opened it to the first page:

"If my experiment is successful this notebook may one day become famous." 

Haddigan glanced up at Evers who was straightening his tie. "You read any of this, Marshall?"

The man glanced up and smirked. "Just enough to know that our beloved professor was off his rocker. Though he was building a time machine."

Grunting Haddigan set the book aside and dumped a few receipts out of the envelope. "Bootmaker, costume supplier, and what's this one? From a Terrence Clark?"

Evers shrugged and drained the last of his coffee. "They were in the diary. Burns thought we should bring them along. Journal was the only personal thing in the house. The rest was just books." He set his mug on the table and moved to the door. "Gotta get back out on patrol."

"Evers." The handsome, insolent man turned back to his chief. "Marshall, I need you to check up on these receipts. They might be worthwhile." The affronted look on his deputy's face pressed him to say, "Let Smith and Burns handle patrol. You're the best investigator I got. You can sniff out a lead before anybody else knows it's around." 

When all else fails appeal to a man's pride. The deputy sauntered to Haddigan's desk and retrieved the receipts, studying each one in turn. "Whata we got so far?"

Haddigan made a frustrated motion with his hand. "Nothing really. Middle-aged professor disappears without a trace. If Agatha Christie's characters were real I'd send for Hercule Poirot. I'm sure he could find the professor!" He chuckled, but Evers had apparently never read Christie and was suffering from a severe case of underdeveloped humor. "All right, Marshall. Ask around. Find out what he bought, when, if he mentioned what he needed it for – " He broke off when he saw he glare Evers was giving him.

"I can handle the questions, thank you!"

Haddigan raised his hands placatingly. "All right, Marshall, all right. You do that then. I'm gonna head out to Foresman's place and have a look around. Wanna get a feel for the guy. See if I can't get inside his head. Radio in if you get any leads."

Evers stomped out of the office, exuding offense. Haddigan sighed and shook his head. And encounter with his deputy was sure to be invigorating at the least. Well, he'd better get to Foresman's before lunch. On his way out he stopped and poured a cup of coffee loaded with sugar. He needed it for the road. 


	3. Three

Marshall Evers checked his appearance in the rearview mirror. He was considered handsome by many. Not that he would deny it, he just pretended to be unaware of his appeal. He had a knack for manipulating people that he thought could be of use to him. That was the true reason Haddigan Barbor had sent him out to ask questions; Evers knew that full well. His first stop was a costume shop, "Annie Costume Designs." Annie May Martin was a widow of uncertain age, whose most recent husband had died two years ago. Evers pulled the patrol car into to tiny parking lot and briskly stepped through the door. A tinkling bell announced his arrival. A harsh voice crowed from the back.

"Be with ya in a minute, love. Gotta finish sewing these buttons. Mary Bradly's boy is dressin up as a tin soldier for his kindergarten graduation and I ain't never seen anyone so fussy in my life. Iffin I don't get this dang'd thing all sewed up before t'evening she'll have my hide. Those new mothers are always the fussiest. Cain't gettum to settle down for nothin. Here now I'm just snippin the thread." There were a few odd sounds from the back room and finally Annie May popped out of the curtain hung doorway. Marshall Evers would never have used such an odd word as popped if he could have helped it, but pop Annie May did. First came her head, wrinkled as a plum and covered with fiery red hair that could only be compliments of lady Clairol, then the rest of her body, clothed in a forest green velour pantsuit and draped in a large apron thrust itself through the calico curtain. Annie May wasn't an overly large woman, but her pushy personality made her seem much larger then she really was. 

Evers opened his mouth to give his name when she thrust her hand at him. He took it gingerly noting that several shiny needles had been stuck in her sleeve. She grinned at him widly. "Annie May Martin at yur service. Well, that's not quite true. My real name's a lot longer, but I try to keep it simple. My first husband was a Jones. Almost turned him down 'cause I couldn't handle the thought of havin sech an ordinary name. But I figgured a girl only gets asked once." She gave a hearty laugh. "Turns out I got asked seven times." At Evers' horrified look she tried to amend the situation. "'Course I turned down one of um. And my Mr. Martin asked twice. So I really onlly had five husbands. Every one of them was as good a man as I could want, onlies they had a habit of dyin out ruther quick-like." Marshall was sure that death was a welcome relief to the poor ears of the unfortunate husbands.

"But now I know you di'nt come here to hear 'bout my dearly departed. Who are ya and how can I help ya?" 

At least this was comfortable ground. He pointed to his badge officiously and added a slight bow for the effect. "I am Deputy Marshall Evers here to investigate – " His words were cut off abruptly.

"Ahhhh…. A lawman. You must be after some information bout that teacher fella who up 'n disappeared. Spose he ran off with some little girlfriend."

You can be sure Marshall pricked up his ears. "Do you have any reason to suspect - " 

She wagged her ruby head. "It's allus a girl. I was wait'n for a lawman to come on up and ask about the teacher. He cum up here a few months ago wantin a costume. Now I know that the lawmen allus like to trace the last week of the dearly departed's life. Not sayin that he's dead, now. No, he's holed up in Canady somewhere with his little girlfriend and you won't be hearin from him agin."

Marshall had realized by now that it was impossible for him to get a full phrase into this woman's diatribe, but he knew that she was the kind who just needed small pushes in the right direction to give him a wealth of information. He wanted to keep her on topic so he said curtly, "The costume?"

If she heard his sharp tone she ignored it. "Said it was fer a production of Hamlet. Now I don't hold to that silly Shakespeare stuff, but it's good fer business so I know a fair bit about it. Now for Hamlet you wear a slashed doublet and hose… stuff with brocade and gold buttons. His was all wrong an I tried to tellim, but it hadta be his way. There was a woman up in Grandfair who was like that. She was allus wantin a bustle for Medieval festivals and hoopskirts to wear for the Roarin' Twenties Fair." 

She pulled in a deep breath to continue and Marshall jumped on the chance. "What did this costume look like?"

Mrs. Martin was no doubt surprised to hear the man say a full sentence, but she recovered herself and lumbered over to her massive filing cabinet, keeping a running monologue as she searched for the appropriate file. "Here 'tis." She said as she pulled out a manila envelope. "Spose you'll be wantin this fer evvydence?" Marshall nodded shortly and pulled out the contents of the envelope. The cost of the costume was carefully written out, the price of each piece of cloth and button neatly written on notebook paper. He skipped over the pages that described the costume and pattern pieces used. A stack of Polaroid's at the bottom of the envelope was just what he needed. Part of his mind registered that Mrs. Martin was still talking, but he was sure that she had nothing new to add. The costume had been simple and functional. Mrs. Martin was right. It wasn't at all the kind of costume to wear for a production of Hamlet. He took a quick inventory: sturdy brown breeches, white shirt, dark green vest with lace-up sleeves, fingerless gloves knitted of dark blue yarn, and a large, hooded cape of brown wool. "Is this all?" 

The woman snapped up her head and stared at him. "Huh?"

"Is this all the man ordered?" He repeated tersley.

"Well sure is! He wanted a leather belt and antiky jewlry, but I tole him I don't do leather work and all. Sent him somewhere else. Supposed you'll want to know where he went. Here's the man's name 'n address. Oh you leavin? Well sure was nice to be of servuce to a lawman. Iffin you need anymore information you come on back here and I cun tell you anything. Next time don't be so quiet. Folks like other folk who talk back."

Marshall collapsed in his car with a relieved sigh. He was not a patient man, and Annie May Martin's never ending talking had grated on his last nerve. At least he had the information he'd come for. It likely was no help to the investigation, but he had it. Now he had only three more people to visit. Marshall sighed. This could be a long day.


End file.
